Warrior Hearts

Uncertainty

Where are you? I repeat, my eyes landing on the marked tents that are stationed a couple of feet away from me. These tents are different from the ones in our camp because they're all marked with red crosses. The said markings allow for them to be easily identified, and distinguished from the rest. Maybe because they house the bodies of the deceased, and none of us wish to mistakenly enter into one of them, only to be met with the sight of a collection of our sleeping brothers. After all, this is their final slumber, one that they will never awaken from.

But instead of heading towards them, I find myself backtracking. A surge of stubborn denial rushes through my blood as I give the slightest shake of my head with each step that I take. I don't see the point in searching for her in those marked tombs because she won't be in there. She can't be. Surely, I can expect her to be in an unmarked tent, nursing another's injuries, or consoling a grieving comrade. That's why I scanned the interior of the tents at our camp site. But there's no way in hell I will futilely search for her in the tents that lie ahead. With each backward step, I put more distance between myself and the marked tents.

"Do not touch his leg." My movements come to an immediate stop. I thought the very second that I would hear this voice - her voice - I'd break into a frantic run towards the source of it; to its speaker. But instead, I find myself rooted to my spot, my eyes shutting on their own volition. The hairs along the length of my arms stand up straight, goosebumps surfacing across every inch of skin that covers my bones.

"I'll need four men to hoist him off the ground and onto their shoulders." Who would've thought that her demanding, authoritative tone would one day make me smile? But that's exactly what my lips are turning upwards to form, a smile; an expression that outwardly portrays the relief that is seeping through my veins, slipping into every corner of my body. I can feel it traveling from the top of my head to the very tips of my toes, like a cold water bath on a sweltering summer day.

My shoulders rise in contentment as I inhale a fresh lungful of air. This time, though, it doesn't hurt me in any way possible. On the contrary, I find myself relishing the air, which suddenly seems devoid of the odours that once infiltrated it, mere minutes ago. I am a man, whose head has just surfaced above water after great struggle.

For hours, my limbs and muscles invested every last ounce of energy they possessed into fighting the current that seemed to have a personal vendetta against me; into holding me in its chokehold. The water had seeped into my airways and was stealthily entering the confines of my mind, pulling down the shutters on my bodily functions. And then I heard it, her voice. It's the equivalent to the boost of energy I needed to thrust myself up above the waves, until my head broke across their surface. It's just the air I needed to prevent myself from succumbing to the bottomless abyss of darkness. It's the hand of my saviour, who reached down and grabbed ahold of my arm, pulling me upwards, towards safety.

"Careful!" Nandini hisses, the irritation in her voice snapping my eyes open. Wheeling myself back into the present, I swivel around. Nandini's safe, I've gathered this much from hearing her voice. Now all I have to do is lay my eyes on her, and reassure myself that she's physically uninjured, and healthy. Unblinking, I begin my visual search from the left end of the field. Nothing. As my eyes scan the faces in the centre of the ground, I feel my heart sink. I couldn't have imagined her voice. She is here. She has to be.

"Allow me." Nandini's voice slips into my ears once again, almost as if she's aiding me in sourcing her out amongst the throng of men. At once, I jerk my head towards the right. My shoulders freeze in place as I hold my breath. Positioned at the entrance of a tent, bent over a horizontal figure, Nandini is on her knees. Although her face is in my line of sight, she's so immersed in tending to the man that she hasn't realised I'm watching her. My shoulders slouch downwards as I release the breath that I was holding onto. She's alright.